I had the privilege to present this to my group at Microsoft as part of a lightning-round presentation invitational for our team.

Check out the video below.

What I got the most value from – aside from meeting Tom Skerritt – was a fifteen-minute panel from industry experts on emerging gaming and Seattle startups. In attendance were representatives from u4ia, Z2Live, ArenaNet and Washington Interactive Network (WIN). It was a good heartbeat on the state of gaming startups in Seattle. Below, you can read the questions raised and the answers given by the panelists. These are fairly raw notes, I’ve summarized where needed.

What are the challenges that are facing game startups in Seattle?

Lots of independent games are built out of passion, but really need to bring that passion to a business model that supports the game.

Great location in Seattle – a wealth of talent! Digipen and Art Institute of Seattle. For startups, it’s a choice overload. Key for any startup is finding the right team and partners.

Big challenge is raising the capital. It’s like biotech – lots of capital burn to get to a product that can get into people’s hands.

Challenge is connection. Folks are focused on PRODUCT, but they need to be focused on connections with others in the industry.

There are a lot of passionate people out there right now. You’re competing with 800k apps in the App Store. What will set you apart? And how are people going to find you?

The games industry is going through a big cycle of change right now – challenge is being able to find and present the right information to give investors confidence in your product. What’s the best thing to look for? Metrics? Concept? Lots of misunderstanding on both sides – and that’s one of the biggest challenges for startups.

How to explain your game to investors?

Big Data is helping here. You need to be able to back your idea with numbers and prove your idea has merits. It’s not just about the execution and quality of the idea.

At REACTOR, building a community around your project and keeping them involved is a huge and necessary pillar, to be able to use that data to forecast potential sales.

Want to see a developer clearly understanding WHICH metrics matter and WHY. You can get swamped in the data; knowing how to make sense of the metrics and make changes to your game to increase monetization and revenue. It’s a big hurdle for even industry veterans to pivot to the Freemium model.

What are the trends in monetization?

Free-to-play gets you huge base of users, recommend to friends, and eventually small number will monetize.

Not every game is suited to every type of monetization. The market is savvy enough now to discern out games that are truly made and tuned for free-to-play.

You really need to know how your game is monetizing. If your LTV is $0.20, paying $1.00 in user acquisition doesn’t make sense: unless those numbers line up it doesn’t matter if you spend $500k on marketing, it just won’t work.

How to think about pain points for customers?

We don’t have to think about it. With A/B testing we can find out for certain what monetizes better.

How the game is meant to be played affects the choice of monetization strategy. Pain points are going to be based on the user profile – aggregated data shows some genre-trends but it’s individual.

There needs to be a REASON to play. It needs to be fun. Just building huts and collecting money won’t do it – there needs to be a story.

What’s the outlook for online multiplayer? Is there a room for subscription?

Subscription as a model isn’t dead, but only companies with dedicated IP, dedicated userbase, and scalability can make this work reasonably.

Can consider converting a SMALL number of your users to a subscription model, this seems to work well as a game gets older and installs decrease. Long-term retained players convert well to this model.

What about consoles as a platform. Viable?

Outlook of console is unknown. With iPad, there are “virtual consoles” coming out that have all their entertainment properties in one place, with cloud serving them. What will it look like in 10 years? Will people want to play on TVs anymore? Will consoles just be a chip in the back of TVs? Consoles themselves only partially became mass market. Smartphones have TRULY become mass market.

Indies are going to have a challenge on any platform – rising above the rest.

How do we see the games industry changing over next 1-3 years?

Increasingly more data driven. Data-driven design. Not sure what kind of games this will create but expect the game to dynamically change based on what the player’s choices are, what is going on in the cloud, what’s happening with friends – much less reliant on scripting. Need to ensure narrative is still there, but it’s got to go beyond linear.

Technology licensing and outsourcing are huge now. Many companies that provide technology. Interesting philosophy is “picks and shovels” – pick out pre-made technologies, outsource content generation, keep core teams small and costs low, esprit de corps high.

Will see more indie game dev teams as tooling costs are lower, can work from basement. Rise of the indies! Those who innovate will win. Supercell took an MMO, stripped it down to the elements that would appeal to tablet. Now they’re the biggest thing ever.

Panelists:
Lauren King – Foster Pepper PLLC (Moderator)
Ian Brillembourg – U4iA Games
Lou Fasulo – Z2 Games
Kristina Hudson – Washington Interactive Network
Pat Wyatt – ArenaNet

That’s why I’m thankful to have seen this fantastic advice today from Ann Friedman: The Disapproval Matrix.

In this great handwritten 2×2 you’ll see a number of archetypes you recognize: friends, critics, trolls, even your own internal voice that beats you up daily. A choice quote:

The general rule of thumb? When you receive negative feedback that falls into one of the top two quadrants—from experts or people who care about you who are engaging with and rationally critiquing your work—you should probably take their comments to heart. When you receive negative feedback that falls into the bottom two quadrants, you should just let it roll off your back and just keep doin’ you.

It’s great to have this handy matrix and associated rules if you or your work is out in the public eye. Thanks Ann!

Indeed, even most of the realities of running a company are about painting word-pictures for others.

Lucky folks get a crib-sheet: agreed-upon acronyms, known numbers, or little charts scrawled on napkins.
For years, words are all I showed the world.
I’ve been blogging for almost fifteen years; now it’s fallen off to the occasional long-form.

The texture of information has changed, flowed and cleaved the basalt earth of our culture since then.

I’m not convinced I should continue to hold onto some principle that says I need to lecture while I make things.
I want to use my short words.
I want to talk in pictures.

Sometimes, I don’t want to talk at all and I want that to be just fine, too.

Just maybe, what I’m about to say is a Career-Limiting Move of its own. Maybe it’s a convenient, portable, travel-sized way of ensuring I never get a job again in the industry I love, the industry I threw away every other opportunity (including the chance at a respectable four-year degree) to join, the industry that represents the fastest growing revenue segment of every digital platform ever developed – but screw it, I’ve been in the business a full, stormy, self-doubting decade and the world can hear me loud and clear:

I will never work on a first-person shooter game, ever again. Period.

SACRILEGE

Drunken ramblings!
Prosletyzing from a youthful cad with visions of superiority!
Mass hysteria (it’s going around this season, you know)!

Action games of all stripes make up about 20% of worldwide sales – run n’ gun games made up 3 of the top 10 grossing games of 2011. Over 20M copies sold of Call of Duty: MW3. 10M for Battlefield 3. Those two games alone made up $1.5 billion at retail in 2011. Even if the publisher only nets $20 per copy, and a wild pessimistic guess at $100M for production costs (2x what it cost to make MW2) MW3 alone pulled in $350M in pure profit on that one title in launch year alone.

The amount of cash up for grabs in the business of Shooting People in the Face is simply staggering.

I understand. It’s not just the money. There’s a magnetic, almost shamanic aura that pervades our favorite shoot-em-up games. We’ll wait in line at 2AM to buy the new consoles that feel like they were built for these games. We’ll eagerly plunk down hundreds of dollars for deluxe editions with extra digital uniforms, special guns, or plastic tchotkes that bring the game closer to an idyllic reflection of ourselves – truly, our own lives, own hopes and dreams are wound up in these experiences – the fact that thirty million other people believe and contribute to this shared vision only adds to the intoxication we feel.

Perhaps as an expression of just how embedded I’ve found myself in this world over the last decade, six of the eight professional titles I’ve contributed to are first-person shooter games. I wish the percentages were different, but money follows money. Corporations and people both are caught in the whirlwind. Even when I toiled away in my education at Digipen at the turn of the millennium, I had half-drawn designs of shooter games; building them represented then the absolute apex of my career. If I could get the money, I thought, this would be my dream.

I’m not alone in this new world, fuller than ever of nascent game developers, would-be professionals, clawing at the walls to make a name, a life, a career full of shipped titles and rabid fans screaming for more. First-person shooter development packs and helper classes are among the most popular – and highest priced – items in the Unity Asset Store.

I’m not here to say there’s no room for innovation in this space, especially from its fans and enthusiasts. For a great understanding of how non-developer involvement has grown and changed in the space, see the excellent post from Rock Paper Shotgun – A People’s History of the FPS.

The problem here is that money isn’t an acceptable stand-in for ethical behavior. Just as legality doesn’t equal morality (seriously, it doesn’t, spread the word), so too does profit fail to imply ethical superiority. Great, we’re all making these games. Should we? Did we ever ask?

I had an experience that forced my hand – I haven’t stopped asking since.

INTRODUCING SUPERDAD

It was a blustery pre-winter at Studio Q. (Call it whatever you want, I’m holding onto at least some plausible deniability here.) Another day, another paycheck, another generic shooter project for the ten-foot experience on a high-def console.

I spent a lot of time building communication channels among engineering, art, and design, disciplines that have often stormy relationships with one another. Putting coalitions together to fix the most critical issues and build up new game features was my self-selected job at the company; playing peacemaker comes naturally when you grow up in a divorced household.

The wide reach meant opportunities to survey dozens of my fellow game developers informally, and ten years in the business hit me all at once. I found many who were excited to work on anything at all. Glad to be in the industry. Maybe I’m supposed to be one of those still, if I know what’s good for me. Many who knew no better or no different. And still others who wished, who hoped against hope we’d make something different one day.

And there were those who were resigned to the mechanism of the industry – who knew that they’d work on whatever was profitable, and that meant, at least for the forseeable future, a lifetime of making shooter games. And they’d worked out their own coping mechanisms.

The man I remember most, Superdad, was an engineer with a young daughter. Like many of us in the business he had to work long hours, during many of the weekends where he’d spend time with his little girl. To try to please both sides, he brought his daughter, probably only 5 or 6 years old, into work and had her play with her toys in his office while he did his coding. He had no choice, really – this industry works people overlong and threatens them with excommunication if they complain, knowing full well that enthusiastic young talent will gladly come fill in at a lower wage.

Superdad was one of the old guard. A bandolier of shipped titles slung across his chest, he had survived layoffs, buyouts, new console launches, mobile versions of games; all manner of weather sprayed across the decks of the sailing ship Development. And he’d had enough time, consideration, and that true engineer thoroughness to come up with a unique solution to a problem that faced him every other weekend: explaining to his young daughter what it was he did for a living.

It was inevitable. His daughter would look up at the screen during a debugging session, see bad guys jumping to and fro from cover points, sneaking through the bush, guns trained dead-on at the eye-point of the player, and she’d be curious. She’d say “Daddy? What are those men doing?”

It’d be a lot harder to explain if the guns were firing, bullets were flying, blood was spurting from flayed carotids and torn femorals – but they weren’t. Not a shot. No gunpowder, no blood.

Superdad had programmed in a hardware switch that stanched all gunfire, instantly. He smiled, and with a gentle voice, he leaned over to his daughter and explained:

“They’re just playing hide and seek, honey.”

CURTAIN DOWN

I’ll admit it: I’m terrified of children.

My fictional maybe-ones that I may or may not have some day, and the children of my friends and colleagues. I don’t know how I’d have the courage to do what it took to protect my child from the visible, media-ready horrors we know plague us as humanity every second – and the more insidious, invisible ones like my industry friends experience every day: the fact that deep down inside, we love to shoot people on these giant screens and watch them fall into the dirt.

That fear may have something to do with why I feel an overwhelming sense of awe in remembering Superdad’s actions. The man is a hero to me, plain and simple. Caught only a worker in the great industrial revolution of digital violence, the Great Blood Gold Rush, he did what he had to in order to feed his family while protecting the delicate hope and optimism of his child, to give her a chance to see the world as it might better be seen, than as it is.

It’s not his response to the situation that I take issue with. It’s that there’s even a situation like this that he feels compelled to respond to – that’s the shame, the ugliness of it.

And this drama – this tightrope walk between building virtual violence while fashioning a safe space for the next generation – was forced to live in the same building that received countless letters, forum posts, YouTube videos, and more from angry gamers that threatened us – and our families – if we didn’t deliver them the bloodthirsty experience they wanted, the one they demanded. The pressure in these pipes does not let up, not from any source. Experience it, and you can begin to see why executives feel they have no choice but to ride these rapids to the hazard of all.

It’s entirely reasonable to tell me that the story is the same whereever you go. Whenever you’re addressing a crowd of millions, you might say, you’ll get hate mail. You’ll accumulate moral debt. You’ll get a crisis of conscience. Just a cost of doing business.

Well, sorry; that’s a cheap escape hatch, and I’m not using it anymore.

If I blame anyone for Superdad’s situation – it’s not him, it’s all of us. What we buy, what we line up for, what we clamor for in great digital mobs drives our next generation of production, fuels the generators and oils the wheels of capital that drive our next wave of industry.

The sad truth for me is that I am just as drawn to shooters as I’ve ever been. It’s unlikely that I’ll ever shake the response I’ve developed to the bursts of adrenaline, the short-circuited route to endorphins triggered by lining up a 32×32 pixel crosshair over a collection of triangles, now acid-etched into my brain as if it were its own printed board of chips and gold-coated bus lines.

But I am drawing the one line I can draw, starting now, for a few good reasons.

First, for the other Superdads out there, I want to be able to look them honestly in the face, not to give them some bullshit line about the fascinating duplicity of mankind, and say that I’m honestly working to try to make the world that their children will inhabit a better one.

Second, my new company, 4gency, built after plenty of time in an industry I couldn’t change, now has the opportunity to pick and choose the games it builds, and the ethical stances those games exhibit. If there’s any time along the singular diode path of my life to take a stand for something, anything, this is it.

So I’ll say it again:

I will never work on a first-person shooter game, ever again. Period.

Not with my company. Not with any company.

I’ve been inspired by a variety of titles, including those in the much-hated “casual” space. I don’t think there’s a need for more Cowclicker 3000’s, but as a glimmer of hope, a shining did-you-know: strategy games made up 28% of the PC game market – the highest grossing genre for that platform. Of course you did; that fact alone does not a lifetime of riches make – but I see more, and better, ahead of us.

There’s an amazing amount of innovation just waiting under the surface for us to tackle – and yes, perhaps violence will be some part of it; we are no simple beings. But we as a self-aware species of gamer – and game developer – can evolve to a more varied diet as a start; a one-course feast of blood and shell casings can perhaps sing its last with this generation and never return, a relic, discarded as the cyanide trappings of our adolescent industry and its hopefully brief era of strip mining for the social soul.

We are ready to do better, and I’m prepared to do my part. No more first-person shooters will come from me.

I’ve said it. Have I destroyed my career?

Am I just minutes away from receiving the famed “you’ll never work in this town again” email from the Gaming Illuminati?

Have I invited a hundred million gamers to tell me I’m going to hell for not capitulating to their demands for a life filled with entertainment that leads with the gun and leaves all else to ruin?

Maybe.
Fire away.

I’ve got a company to run.

Oh, who didn’t see that coming? I’m thirty, and not an astronaut. Maybe that’s the hardest part.

Today they picked the crew to go up to the Space Station for a full year. The US lead is a storied, educated man, deep in Navy tradition. Good schools, good references; it might have been that very moment of synapse that my brain and heart finally linked up to drive the message hard home:

You won’t ever be an astronaut.

I know – you heard the same message, earlier than I did. Lots of folks did, and they’ve made peace with themselves. In some strange way, this is how I do the same thing you’ve had a head start on.

I dream about space. I read about it, hope about it, worry about our future in those dead vacuums of forever, inbetween those rare air bubbles called planets. I know it’s all we’ll have one day until we find a new home. I love it, and I’m terrified of it.

Rinse and repeat, my brain does, with so much of life – the military, politics, racing, real estate, art. I have the vague sense, handed down from somebody (credentialed, I’m sure) that thirty is when you stop doing anything but what you’re good at, and resign yourself to certain entropic truths whose distinctive chemical burns on your heart can apparently be eased by the salve of a reasonably-returning 401(k).

I never believed it then – I’m not sure I’m inclined to start, save these feelings that come creeping up now and again like this one. I know the choices I’ve made are closing doors with each passing moment. I’m in video games, for God’s sake: I won’t be nominated for important things. I won’t be elected to things. I won’t be endowed with things. No, if notoreity is my aim, I’ll get to build things, and hope they can live long, illustrious lives far outshining their creator.

Or.

I can take a tack that bubbles to the surface every once in a while – one that echoes back as far as boyhood, and still finds the deep breath to shout out from the chasm in my strong moments, which, thank God, are growing more common now as I work my way back to health.

You can make the things that are in your head.

Did you hear? It’s a voice that’s quieter, maybe, less stentorian, but is as real as that sad hellish brain-DMV that spends its time demanding I hand over my humanity license, and far, far brighter when I can strain through the clouds to see it.

I’ve been in the video game business for over a decade. I’ve seen things that inspire me to love all creatures, and things that make me weep for our species. But now, with my company nearly a year old, I’m starting down the path toward doing something that might bring me deeper fulfillment than anything my fears can push back; hope has the opportunity to cross that river.

You can make the things that are in your head.
You won’t ever be an astronaut, but you can make the things that are in your head.

The next stage of life might be just learning to be okay with that.

Mind you, there’s still been plenty to distract my mind away from the fresh breezes and warm waters; we’ve seen generator failures, toilet blockages and freshwater leaks in just our first few days on the boat, but my hat is off to this crew, their spirits never flagging, just getting stronger and more cohesive the more we endure.

Even the weather has reminded us of our fragility – not the light showers and fluffy clouds we have here, but the deep, flooding core of Hurricane Debby further northwest that was forming with just hours to go as we flew in through Houston (and thankfully has no bearing on our weather here).

None of this has put a damper on this crew’s ability or desire to have a great time. We’ve gone swimming with cuttlefish and rays, gazed at magnificent stars, been treated to wonderful meals (and free drinks, thanks to our mechanic at the yacht company calling in a favor), and have had our share of wonderful surprises among the challenges.

There’s a lot more to say, I’m sure – but I’d prefer to go see, and report back later. To all of the family and friends, we’re safe and sound with fine weather forecasted ahead. See you all soon!

All editions of Node.Hack EX will cost $0.99 US at release, and will be available worldwide. Of course, the original, ad-supported free version of Node.Hack will still be available on Windows Phone, but we’re pretty sure you’ll want to upgrade when you see what’s in store:

New Features for Node.Hack EX

Featuring all the great hacking action and strategy of the original Node.Hack, the EX version adds the following new features:

• New Weapon: Mortar Strike – rain down destruction with this close-support artillery weapon.
• 5 New “Melee” Maps – scramble for more cash under a swarm of enemies in these five new maps.
• Escape Bonus – get even greedier with 2x score bonuses when the exit is open; 4x for Melee maps.
• Level Select – play from any level you’ve previously reached without having to start over.

It’s new, exciting, updated hacking action, and we think it’s well worth it to upgrade! If you’ve got a Windows Phone and want to dive in and try the free version of Node.Hack, it’s available now at http://www.nodehackgame.com.

Look for Node.Hack EX for Windows Phone in February 2012, and on all other platforms in March.